


take it in, don't hold your breath

by VolunteerFieryDantooinian



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Angst, Drowning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drowning, Nightmares, Possession is NOT FUN kids dont try this at home, Possibly Underage Drinking, Suicidal Ideation, Vomiting, a lot of hurt and not much comfort, most of the comfort is at the end, possible canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolunteerFieryDantooinian/pseuds/VolunteerFieryDantooinian
Summary: Sometimes the aftermath can be worse than the actual events that transpired.Or, Henry Turner continues to suffer at the hands of others, even if they're dead.





	take it in, don't hold your breath

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Long Way Down by Robert Delong, which is a super catchy song.  
> Anyway, this is really trashy. And kind of gross? I don't know why anyone would read this. (I wanted to tag this with Grimdark!Henry, but I restrained myself.)

It only takes 3 days for you, your parents, and Carina to run off on another goddamned adventure, and only 2 more to track down the  _Pearl._

When you're at sea, which is more often than not, you're perfectly fine at first. Seasickness has never been a burden that you've experienced, and you have a certain sense of balance that puts you at an advantage compared to, say, Carina. She stumbled around the ship a lot, when the waves were rough and white-capped, salt spraying in your face. 

It doesn't even take a week for the aftereffects to start surfacing, once Salazar is dead, and you've been at sea for a few days. You're not sure why you're surprised that it was doing this to you. The nightmares came before the real storm, but those were to be expected. You dreamed of drowning, usually tumbling off of the deck and into the dark, tumultuous ocean. Your lungs would ache and burn and you'd breathe in, salt stinging your throat. People always said drowning was a painless way to die.

They were lying. You were breathing in water, saltwater no less, when you were supposed to be breathing air, and it burned endlessly. There was always the question of whether you'd rather drown or burn to death, but now you realize they aren't so different. Every time, you wake up gasping, and eerily, but only occasionally, your clothes are slightly damp and salt-stiff. 

The next symptom begins when you're back on land, and it's simply to get supplies and, in many cases, attempt to steal something. The second you step foot on the beach your mouth gets dry and your head spins, and unholy fires of hell, you feel like you're dissolving. You look over at Carina in desperation, not wanting to alarm anyone who would make a big deal out of whatever this was. She says something about you having mentioned something earlier, clearly an excuse, and pulls you aside, out of earshot. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Is there something wrong?" Carina frowns, looking into your eyes with an expression not unlike suspicion and worry. "You can tell me, I promise." 

"It's nothing. I'm just used to being at sea, that's all." You laugh drily. The weird feeling has faded a little, and now you just feel detached and vaguely ill. She doesn't let it go, checking up on you every so often throughout the slow day. In this part of the ocean, it's dry and hot during the day, and cool at night. It could be downright chilly. Right now, though, you wished for the cold; the heat had you sluggish and irritable. 

By the time you return to the ship in a sprint, after having accidentally pissed off an entire bar full of people, you're downright exhausted. After accidentally snapping at Gibbs earlier, no one was too keen on bothering you. You sit down near the bow, where hopefully no one will mess with you, and the sun is less likely to reach. 

Looking at your reflection in the ocean, you look exhausted, face slightly sunburned and your eyes ringed with dark circles. It was easy to tell you hadn't been sleeping much recently.

After a while, your father joins you, not saying anything but giving you a concerned glance. You're half curled up against the railing, arms wrapped around your legs, and you sit in silence. 

"Carina is worried about you, you know," He said finally. "Everybody is. That wasn't like you to do that." His voice is quiet, almost like he's afraid speaking too loud will hurt you. You already had a headache, so it wouldn't really make much of a difference, but you appreciate the thought. 

"Tell them I'm sorry for being so insufferable today. It wasn't their fault." You say, and he looks worried, still. 

"Henry, there's obviously something amiss. Are you feeling alright? You're pale." He sets a hand on your arm, and you don't flinch away. 

"It's probably just the heat. I've never been fond of weather like that." You explain, and damn, you hope you're right. "It makes me tired and puts me in a bad mood." 

He nods, seemingly finding that answer to be enough. You sit in silence for awhile, the same damned headache pulsing behind your eyes, feeling vaguely sleepy. It's cooler on the ocean.

At some point, you must have drifted off, because you wake up half-sprawled on the deck, your father's coat spread over you like a blanket. It's dark, and when you sit up a prickling chill slithers down your spine, your skin pale and vaguely clammy. Your face is still warm from sunburn. You tug on your father's jacket and lie back down, not wanting to disturb anyone else. Some sleep on the deck anyways, so it's not particularly weird that you're doing it. You stare up at the stars, trying to identify the constellations Carina was constantly talking about. 

They aren't too easy to find, but you spot Ursa Minor fairly easily, and then Orion's Belt. Your stomach twists when you spot the constellation that leads to the island of stars. It was beautiful, and breaking the trident had been worth it, but the memory of your possession is still heavy in your mind. Being cast out- no, that wasn't what it was like. It was more like being stuck in room filled with water. You knew what Salazar was doing, you saw every minute of it, and it was almost like you were stuck in  _his_ body and mind, not that he had taken over yours. 

He had drowned. You knew what it felt like by now, with the amount of times you had dreamed it, and Barbossa had ended up drowning in the end, so Salazar could die for good. 

You were bluffing if you said you didn't wish it was you that had died. 

When you fall asleep, you enter the dream almost immediately. 

The water is rough, and you're balancing your way across the deck when the ship rocks dramatically and you go slamming into the railing, ribs sore from the blow as you fall overboard. 

It's dark under the water, and Salazar's dead face flashes across your field of vision for a second as you start to drown. You fight the water, but you sink like a stone all the same, and by now your lungs are burning. It's impossible to tell which way is up, and you think you've reached the surface, but you're really at the bottom. Your lungs spasm and you inhale.  _Voluntary apnea,_ you think. That's what Carina called it. The water rushes in and you gag, your throat burning from the salt, and you try to cough but no bubbles escape your lips. You swear you can hear a laugh when you black out.

You awake halfway into a scream, gasping desperately and coughing rib-crackingly hard. Your mouth tastes vaguely like saltwater, and you feel cold and sick when you think about why. Somebody helps you sit up, hands on your shoulders, and you realize it's Carina, thank god. You're pathetically dizzy, and she's asking you something, but you don't know what. 

"Henry!" Her voice finally gets through the fog that sits in your mind. 

"Stop." You groan, the headache resurfacing. It's hard to breathe, and you cough a few times, something wet slicking your lips. She looks at you in a slightly petrified way, and you touch a hand to your mouth. It confirms your suspicions: dark, old, viscous blood clings to your fingertips. The taste makes you gag violently, and you stumble to your feet. Your head spins and you almost fall, but Carina steadies you, firm hands on your shoulders. You clutch the railing desperately and vomit over the side, sticky, black liquid that tastes like blood and seawater. Shuddering, you wipe your mouth and collapse back onto the deck.

"I-I'm-I'm not dying," you manage. Her eyes are wide as she sits down next to you. You can tell that something is working in her brain, she's trying to comprehend what the hell is going on with you. She doesn't say anything, just slides closer and rubs your back, clearly trying to give you breathing room while attempting to comfort you. It works. It isn't hard to tell that she has a hunch about what's wrong with you. 

Other symptoms are less obvious.

Most days, you feel washed out and violated, like your mind isn't your own anymore. You're on guard constantly, and once when Carina comes up behind you unexpectedly you almost scream. Your nightmares stick around, sometimes as bad or worse as the first time you had that admittedly gross reaction, sometimes just a nightmare. Once, your father found you, hyperventilating and sick after you'd had a particularly bad nightmare, and you had to convince him that no, you weren't dying, but it was just complicated. The blood on your face didn't really help.

Sometimes you'll wake up in the middle of the night and have a bone-chilling, disgusting feeling that someone is watching you, and oftentimes you cry hard enough to wake up someone else. Usually Carina, but a few times it was your mother. The most awkward instance was when Jack heard you. Thankfully, he has enough sense to leave you alone if you told him to, or get someone else to deal with your emotions. He recognized he couldn't do much to help you with his rambling. (especially with the unrealistic, unrequited, and frankly embarrassing crush you've harbored for 8 years.)

You find wet sand in your pockets sometimes, and once you discovered your hair was tied back with a piece of seaweed. That was thoroughly creepy. Your skin usually has a sickly gray tone to it, and sometimes if you look at your reflection long enough your lips look blue.

It isn't until a few weeks later when even stranger occurrences happen. 

It's dark, and you're docked at some port city briefly because of some thing Jack heard about. Not a festival, really, but there was drinking involved. You feel sick and lightheaded on land, and you blame it on having been at sea for so long. Carina knows you're lying, but doesn't call your bluff. You take the opportunity to sneak away from the group as soon as it arises, and Carina notices as you wander off but doesn't follow. Or at least, you don't think she does. That is, until 2 hours later, when you're utterly wasted and hitting on almost everyone in sight. Your head feels... Swimmy, sort of, and you realize you've never been drunk before, which makes you laugh a little bit. You should've done it before now. Swaying a little, you bump into someone, a very  _pretty_ someone.

"Hey, Carina, have you, have you been drunk? 'Cause, you look really pretty when I'm drunk. Not that you don't normally. I dunno." Your voice slurs and everything is really, really loud, and you're pretty sure she says something but you can't catch it over the roaring in your ears. "Can't hear you. Too loud." She clearly rolls her eyes, and pulls you away from the crowds, leading you to the beach. 

"I said, what in the hell are you doing? You can't just walk away from the group, get completely and utterly drunk, and start flirting with everything that moves!" She protests, and you frown a little.

"Jack does it allllll the time." You laugh, and she frowns. You frown back, rubbing your eyes as a headache starts to form. 

"He's not a good role model." Her voice gets a little softer. "Come on. You need to get back on the ship."

"Why, 'cause I got possessed by a dead man and I can't stay on land without feelin' all.." You make a vague gesture. "Wrong?" Her eyes widen just a little and she makes a noise of understanding.

"Yes, and I want you to sleep this off before we're back at sea." She explains. You nod sagely, and you stumble to the ship with her. One of her arms is around you, warm and surprisingly strong, and you feel a little more grounded. 

Once you're on the ship, rocking slightly in the shallow water, you feel safer, but not any less trashed. She sits with you near the bow, and soon you're dozing off.

The dream comes again and it's bad, oh god, it's so bad this time, seaweed around your neck like a noose, choking you along with the water making your chest heave as it forces it's way in. You feel numb and terrified and when you breathe in the water it's thick, sticky liquid that tastes a little like blood. Suddenly, though, you awake, and you find you still can't breathe.

Everything is blurry and you gasp for breath, choking on something that shouldn't be there and it's water or blood or something in between. Carina, knowing blood on the deck will probably create suspicion, hauls you halfway to your feet and shifts your position so your head is over the side but you won't fall. She shifts her arms around your middle and pushes up under your ribcage hard. You cough painfully hard, a gush of oil-like, thick liquid expelled from your lungs. It makes you cough more, and you dry-heave forcefully over the railing. She rubs your back with the flat of her palm, gentle and comforting. It hurts like hell, and you're grateful when she hands you a flask of water to get the taste out of your mouth. You drink a little and hand it back.

No one questions it when they find the 2 of you curled up together on the deck, you fast asleep, Carina sitting in an obvious display of protective alertness. The only thing that comes out of it is a lecture from your father on how you shouldn't get quite so wasted by yourself. But to be fair, you already knew that. 

The worst thing occurs, by far, at the end of it.

After weeks upon weeks of research in old texts; texts on monsters and curses and unspeakable, horrible things, you finally, finally find it. It's late at night, and you're tired, but you stumble across it in a dusty, thick tome Carina found. How to reverse the aftereffects of possession. 

Of course, it's the most dangerous spell you've seen in the book so far, but at this point, if you don't do something, it'll kill you. You write down what you need, and it's deceptively simple. The ocean or another water source, ashes from burned flowers, a seashell, and for the spell to be performed at sunset. You wait until the next time you dock, and head into town alone. Finding the seashell is easy. You find the most complete, beautiful one you can; a scallop's ringed calico shell.

Then you gather as many flowers as possible, buying a few roses as the text says, and picking some wild ones. You start a small fire and lay the flowers in a clay bowl, which holds up well to the heat. When you have black, fragrant ash, all you have to do is wait. You make sure you're close to the ship in case you start to drown, leaving a note for Carina telling her what you're doing and where you are, just in case, you scrawl. 

You find a lone, abandoned little dock, and after checking the depth of the water, you wait until there isn't much time until sunset. Then, you mark intricate, swirling sigils on your arms and face as the book instructs with the ashes. You hold the seashell carefully and "charge" it. According to the book, you have to imagine a lot of dark, malignant energy going inside of it, then soft light coming out. You're supposed to put all of your bad energy into it.

When you think about it, this is probably a really bad idea.

Ok, given the fact that you'll essentially be dead for a few seconds, it's definitely a bad idea.

You drop the seashell into the water, right where you'll be falling in. Jumping in? You aren't quite sure which one it technically is. Now, all you have to do is wait. That part doesn't take long, and soon the sun is kissing the slightest edge of the horizon. The light is soft and gentle, and for a second it doesn't feel like you're about to  ~~essentially kill yourself~~ try a very dangerous spell you found in some ancient textbook that apparently exorcisms the remainders of possessors.

Then it does. And you're scared, oh boy, you're scared. But it isn't as scary as something you can't control choking the life out of you.

Is it?

You spread your arms a little bit and fall backwards off of the edge of the dock, eyes closed. It feels like it takes forever, even though it should only take a few seconds, and then you hit the water with a surprisingly loud splash. It surrounds you like a blanket, eliminating all sound from the surface, and you know you can't struggle. 

Suddenly something inside you jerks and you don't have control over your mind or body anymore, it's all  _him,_ except nobody has your body and you're shoved into the underwater room again, drowning in your own mind and your body. You can still feel your physical body, though, and you feel yourself take a breath. Voluntary apnea. The salt stings and aches, and you feel lightheaded, but you don't feel like you need to breathe.

So this is when you're dead.

You feel violated and dirty and just wrong, with somebody else in your head, and his presence pushes against yours, tries to push you out, but you fight this time. Because now, you know what's coming, and you push back hard against the malignancy. It hurts, pressure forming in your mind and heart and just about everything else, but it's working. You push again, and he's gone.

It takes a few seconds, but then your body has 1 soul instead of 2. He's gone, and now it's your  _body_ drowning instead of your mind, or maybe it's both. Either way, it hurts, and when you try to cough your lungs feel like they're ripping themselves apart. The pain in your chest is almost unbearable, and you can practically feel your heartbeat. There's a loud roar in your ears, maybe the water, maybe your pulse. It doesn't really matter that much anymore. You jerk and struggle but you're already on the bottom, just like in your dream, and your eyes open. There's black at the edges of your vision but the water is beautiful, blurry and painful but the light is softer down here.

You're reminded of jellyfish. All they can do is drift, the beautiful little things. They have no brain. They can't feel things. Most importantly, though, they can't drown.

That would be nice.

Your chest burns and a few stray bubbles float out of your mouth as you choke on the water that you can't get rid of, and you realize you don't have enough air to cough anymore.

There's a blur in the water and you think  _great, at least I'll have company when I die._

That's when you black out.

 

-

 

When you regain consciousness, your head pounding, you instantly start to choke. The water shifts in your lungs and it hurts, it hurts so bad you want to cry. Suddenly warm hands grab your shoulders and roll you onto your side. It makes trying to breathe a little easier as you cough up water and shiver violently. You've never felt this cold in your whole damn life. Your lungs spasm and the amount of water you inhaled seems immeasurable as you gasp for air in between retches, stomach rolling. Somebody is rubbing your back in slow, rhythmic circles, and once you can breathe a little better, you attempt to sit up, forcing your eyes open. 

Big mistake, on both fronts. First of all, there's now sand in your eyes, and your vision is blurry. But sitting up is worse, your body aching, and a wave of sudden dizziness floods through you. It makes you feel sick, and you start to fall, but someone grabs your shoulders firmly to keep you upright. 

"Easy, Henry." Your father's voice is concerned and gentle, and you cough a couple times, your chest stinging. You groan, closing your eyes again, and a different voice is asking something but you don't know what it is. 

"-I said, What the hell were you thinking?!" Carina's voice cuts through the sluggishness of your thoughts like a knife. You open your eyes and she's kneeling in front of you, eyes downright frightening. "You could've died!" 

"If we're going to get literal here, I did. But not for very long." Your voice is waterlogged and weak, and she swats your shoulder. You try not to think about the fact that you were willing to die, but you end up thinking about it anyway. Death itself doesn't scare you, but how ready you were to die definitely does. 

You just _died!_  you shouldn't be troubling yourself with these worries.

The dam that had built up in your emotions over the past month-ish suddenly cracks, a hot, pained sob escaping your throat. Tears build and spill from your eyes, and you pull your father into a crushing, haphazard hug, digging your fingers into his jacket. After a second or two of hesitation, he hugs you in return, making a soft shushing noise. You try to speak but all that comes out is a choked whimper and you keep sobbing. He rubs your back, trying to comfort you, and if it's awkward you honestly don't care.

"Shh. You're alright, Henry. You're ok. Everything is going to be ok."

 

 

and for once, " _everything is going to be ok._ " is something you can believe.


End file.
